whatever will be
by loved in shades of wrong
Summary: AU/AH FutureFic: "I think we should... take a break." three-chapter story.
1. how it could have happened

Warnings: language, sexual implications  
Author's Note: To the returning readers, hi! You found me. I'm sorry it's taken as long as it did. It was so emotional for me to write that some days I couldn't bring myself to even touch the document. To the readers who've only now just found this story, hello! This is a repost and rewritten version of a story that I didn't manage to finish on another account here.

To everyone who hasn't been clued in yet, this is based on/inspired by their true story, with my take on how I think everything went down as well as changes to suit Troy and Gabriella's universe. (That's why you'll find them at least slightly OOC.)

**one: how it could have happened**

"We need to talk."

She looks up from 'The Lancet' and smiles at the man standing in the doorway of her living room, and sits up on her couch. "Well hello to you too." Noticing the serious look on her boyfriend's face though, her smile falters and she puts the journal down. "Okay, shoot."

"I… look," he sighs and walks into the living room. His hands are in his coat pockets, and his shuffling feet and weary glances make him look so out of place in the familiar apartment. "There's no easy way to say this." He gently sits down next to her on the couch, a noticeable distance between them.

She regards his tone and tilts her head to the side, her heart beating fast. It can't be good. She bites her lip before taking a deep breath and looks him straight in his eyes. It's lost its spark. She can't feel her arms. The journal falls to the ground but she doesn't notice.

"What?" she finally whispers, not trusting her voice at this moment.

"I think we should... take a break."

She blinks once. Her heart becomes so erratic she can feel her ears pulse. She blinks again. The back of her eyes start to sting. She drags in a breath and the air burns the back of her throat as it claws its way into her lungs.

An unexpected whimper chokes her. He moves closer to her, about to reach his hand out to her face but she shakes her head vigorously and draws back, the flash of despair passing his face disappears as she clamps a hand over her mouth and squeezes her eyes shut.

"I just-"

"Please don't," she gasps, tearing her eyes open, pinning her intense stare on him. "Just... don't." She heaves her feet on the ground and places her elbows on her thighs to drop her head into her hands.

* * *

She doesn't know how long they've been sitting here but she's really thirsty. It makes sense because she's been silently crying while he sits there and stares at the blank plasma screen in front of the couch. It's the only thing she understands in this situation: she's dehydrated. Everything else is a blur and she hates it. She's a surgeon, for fuck's sake. She hates not knowing. Not knowing why.

"Why," she croaks, her eyes still focused on her wringing hands in her lap.

"Our careers are just starting to take off; we're only in our residency. I don't want to hold you back if there are opportunities for you."

"You mean you don't want _me_ to hold _you_ back." She's being harsh. She can feel it on her tongue, and the flavour only adds when his eyes flash darker and his expression becomes anguished. But she doesn't care. It makes her feels _better_.

"I don't want us feeling like we're holding _each other_ back. I don't want us waking up one day and resenting each other for opportunities we've missed. I don't want to carry the burden of knowing that you're not at your best because-"

"You think our relationship is a _burden_ to you?" It's not what he means. They both know it. It's clear that he's thought a lot about this. For a while. She's upset that he's been thinking about this and had been lying to her face _for how long_.

They're _young_; they've got their whole lives ahead of them for _forever_ and _love_. The words feel bitter in her mind and she resents ever thinking them in relation to him. She should've known. How can she be so stupid? He's always been career driven. She knew that going into the relationship. What the fuck made her so selfish and self-absorbed to think that she was the exception? _Stupid. Stupid, stupid stupidstupid._

He's a brain surgeon, for fuck's sake. That should have clued her in. He's a brain and she's a heart. Complete opposite rulings.

Her head hurts.

"Ella. I..."

"Don't." Her voice is shaky, and she looks away. Hearing her name roll effortlessly off his lips flushes away all her negative feelings, but looking at his face any longer will only make her cry. "I get it." She wants to tell him how much she hates him, but that's a lie. And it makes her feel worse just thinking it. She wants to throw up. "_I get it_."

"Baby." Her heart feels heavy and it hurts trying to keep it up when all it seems he wants to do is pull and tug at it. A tear rolls down her cheek. "We can still-"

"Please," she begs softly. Five years. They lasted for five years. She can't see him again if she can't walk up and kiss him or tell him how much she loves him anytime she wants. Because she does. She loves him so much, and the thought of not seeing him after tonight makes her want to hold him, touch him, _feel_ him. She forces that down immediately.

"I-I'm sorry," he stutters and she finally hears his voice waver. "This job offer could really put my name and research outside New Mexico." She turns her head enough to see his hands clenching into fists, and the need to throw up passes and the urge to touch him grows. He's hurting himself; she can see his hands turning unusually white.

Her hand reaches out without a thought and tentatively places it on his fist, feeling it relax instantly. He moves to turn his hand over but she retracts it before their palms can touch. "Don't be. I understand." She'd applaud herself for being an adult about it if it didn't feel so terrible. She wants to throw things, scream, hit him. She self-consciously wraps her arms around herself and her foggy mind clears slightly as she concentrates on their careers. "You have your future to think about - I do too. We have lives to save and cures to find."

She jumps when he reaches over and tenderly rubs his thumb at the corner of her mouth before sliding his hand down the side of her neck. She thinks about pulling away again but it feels so good, and heartbreak's all the same, what's one more hurt? "Hey," he murmurs, so gently that her body visibly relaxes and she leans into his hand as it skims back up to rest against her cheek. "Whatever will be, right?"

She can't bring herself to hate him for using that against her, so she forces a closed-lip smile in his direction, nodding. It's her motto in life. You can't be a surgeon and have lives balancing on a very thin line between life and death in your hands without some higher being in which to believe to help deal with the pain and troubles of the job. He chooses to turn to God; she trusts the power in the universe.

His words gives her hope, though. Maybe someday down the road, when they've reached their dreams, they'll find each other. It's enough to slow down her tears and almost eagerly accept his tug closer to him.

"We'll let fate decide, and we'll give it another go if we feel it right." He nods determinedly, placing his forehead against hers and closes his eyes. She watches the frown on his mouth ease, and for the first time tonight notices the wrinkles around his eyes. It makes him look older. Tired. Miserable.

She grabs the lapels of his coat and holds on tightly when it crosses her mind that this is the last time she'll ever be allowed to touch him like this. Her mind races to the last time she kissed him, the last time she told him she loves him. Yesterday. He came over on one of their very rare days off and they decided to go to the park, where they'd lay in the grass and talked about his last patient. He had lost her and had been really upset about it because they had grown really close, and then she was _gone_. He'd rolled over until he was hovering over her, and he'd told her how much he loved her before dancing his lips across her face. He'd told her that he couldn't bare the thought of losing her like that and then kissed her fervently.

She manoeuvres herself onto his lap, pushing her face in the crook of his neck, and wetly breathes him in. Him and his stupid brain is _wrong_ in assuming that they can't make it; she believes that they can. He makes her stronger; he makes her want to be better. Fuck that feminism crap, because he _does_. But she doesn't want to do it if he's doubting them; if he doesn't believe that they're stronger together. He's wrong and stupid. But she loves him.

He squeezes her tighter to him, buries his nose in her hair, and clutches the ends in one hand while the other cradles the back of her head. They're still again.

* * *

Time escapes her and she starts to drift off when he shifts around, and she feels like she's floating as he easily lifts her up and carries her to the bedroom.

When he places her on the bed, she thinks that he'll fall onto his side, but when she feels him slipping away, she lets out a soft protest and grabs desperately at his arm. "Don't go." She can see the cogs turning in his head as he darts his eyes to the door and back to her before nestling next to her. Turning to her side, she waits until he does the same before whispering a forlorn, "I love you." She wonders if he still does.

He shifts his head closer and her eyes droop to his mouth as it opens to form a sigh. Unable to resist, she moves closer until her lips are just touching his, lingering there for a moment before she pulls away. Glancing back up, she bites her lip when she notices his eyes are closed.

The crease between his eyebrows deepens as he frowns and she reaches up to sooth it away. His eyes jolt open suddenly and then his lips smash against hers, bruising it deliciously. Their kiss is rough and hurried as hands grasp each other despairingly everywhere; anywhere. Her face around her mouth burns from his five o'clock shadow but it's the only thing that's making her feel alive, so she grabs the back of his head and kisses him deeper.

A quiet whining noise releases from the back of her throat when he wrenches his mouth away, both panting heavily. "Baby, you're making this more difficult than it already is. We... we can't." His voice breaks on the last word, and he gently places a whisper of a kiss to her forehead before falling on his back, taking her with him as he guides her head to rest on his chest, over his heart.

She sniffles and cuddles closer, and for the rest of the night, she falls asleep to the sound of the steady beating in his chest and his soothing fingers as they run through her hair, she dreams of his light kiss on her lips, his anguished whisper of, "I love you too," his reluctant shifts, and his quiet exit out of her apartment.


	2. how it could be happening

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has taken an interest in this, and special thanks to the ones who reviewed - your responses are very helpful.

**two: how it could be happening**

She's tried to stay away from him. She's tried to avoid the cafeteria at midday every Tuesday, the on-call room every second Wednesday evening, the front of the hospital every Friday at ten when he goes home for the week. She's even taken to checking the OR roster for any surgeries he may have so they won't cross each other's paths. She's really tried.

But somehow... somehow, _he_ always manages to find _her_. He hasn't approached her, though. She doesn't think she can handle it if he walks over and tries to starts a conversation. She can barely ignore him when he's across the break room (but boy does she try really hard to avoid looking at him at all), staring so intently at her. She always feels his eyes burning into the back of her head and it unnerves

Sharpay's been by her side for a month now, since the morning after. When she had woken up and realised he'd left, she'd called her, crying. And she was there, wiping her eyes and feeding her Ho Hos she'd bought on her way there as she sobbed out what had happened that night. She was there when her mind started to wander, bringing her back to focus on the day at hand. She was there when Troy entered a room, loudly distracting her instead to whatever it was that happened in the paediatrics ward that day. But this week Sharpay has a meeting in Boston, so she's been forced to face the halls of Albuquerque General Hospital without Sharpay next to her, supporting her.

"You'll be fine, babe," she'd said as she shoved another sweater into her second pink suitcase. "You're strong. You can do it. But if you need anything, just call me. Or talk to Kate, or even Taylor. Okay?"

Sighing, Gabriella tiredly drops her head in her hand, elbow propped on the nurse's station. "Hey Tay."

Behind the counter, Nurse Taylor McKessie's jaded smile matches hers. "Hi babe. How are you feeling?"

"Like I need a drink."

"I hear that, sister," another voice says.

Turning, she spots Dr. Kate Spencer skipping happily towards them, and Gabriella dramatically reaches out her arms for her to catch her.

"Let's go to Natalie's. My treat." She grins brightly.

"Surgery a success?" Taylor guesses, piling up some paperwork.

"Yup." Kate lets go and pulls herself up on the counter, allowing Gabriella to lean her forearm on her thigh. "She's awake, talking just fine and her motor skills are functioning normally."

"That's great news," Gabriella smiles.

"Thanks! So? Drinks?"

"Definitely." She nods.

"I can't," Taylor grimaces. "I have an early shift tomorrow, and my fiance's waiting on me at home."

Catcalls ensue, grabbing the attention of others around them, and the three spill into giggles.

* * *

Walking into Natalie's Pub, she can feel the stress of the day start to ease off her in waves as she takes in the warm and easy atmosphere. Many surgeons and nurses frequent this place after their shifts since it's across the street from the hospital, and she and Kate call out greetings to familiar faces as they move to find their place in a booth at the back.

"I'll get the first round!" Kate shuffles off to the bar, and her thoughts fill every crevice of her brain.

It's been a long day and she hopes Kate gets her something stronger than her usual Long Island iced tea. She didn't even want to get out of bed this morning, especially after having only slept for four hours, but she had forced herself, chanting over and over in her head about how it will be a testament to her willpower and strength to face the day ahead without Sharpay's help. To face _Troy_ without Sharpay's distractions.

She'd never admit this to anyone but sometimes in bed, she'd cry over him. She'd think about how if their lives were different, would they be moving in together by this time? Happily married? Expecting their first child? Most nights she'd hug the pillow he'd used when he'd sleep over, curling her leg over it like a substitute for the warm body she craves and aches for.

When Kate comes back with drinks, she's never been so grateful when she's handed a gin and tonic. She takes a sip as Kate starts to relay her surgery in detail.

Sometimes, she'd have this one recurring dream. It was the night they... parted. Except when she'd ask why, there were different variations. "I'm gay," "There's somebody else," or the one that had made her jolt awake last night in a sweat and in tears at two am: "I just don't love you anymore."

Kate's voice suddenly slips in and interrupts her thoughts when she nudges her arm, "Uh-oh."

"What." She shakes her head before turning to where Kate's staring. Troy's half way through the door, scanning the place, and she sucks in a breath when his eyes meet hers before he enters the pub completely.

"Do you want to leave?"

She breaks the gaze and turns to her friend, shaking her head. "No," she says shakily. "I can handle it."

"Are you sure?"

"I think so."

"Okay." Kate reaches over again and squeezes her hand reassuringly. "Tell me when you can't and we'll go. Just tell me when."

Smiling gratefully, she squeezes back before downing the rest of her drink. "Another round?"

She's just finishing her order for another apple martini and gin and tonic when she feels someone saddle up on the stool next to her. "Hi."

She doesn't have to turn around to know who it is. He didn't even have to speak for her to know who it is that had sat down. She can feel her heart beating faster, the hairs on the back of her neck rising and the automatic twitch at the corner of her mouth every time he is near. "... Hi." She hopes he didn't notice the shake in her voice.

"So Sharpay's pitching her idea on kids with terminal cases." Sharpay. A safe topic. She can do that.

"Yup." She drums her fingers against the edge of the counter, waiting impatiently for her drinks. "She texted me this afternoon. She's super nervous."

"She shouldn't be. She knows what she's talking about, and her idea's great."

She nods politely and stretches her mouth in a closed-lip smile.

"How- how are you?"

"I've been better."

"Rough day? What happened?"

_You._ "Didn't get much sleep last night." _You woke me up, and then proceeded to keep me up._

From the corner of her eye, she sees him nod with a slight frown on his face.

She cannot be more relieved when the bartender is back with her drinks. When she moves to get them, Troy stands up and extends his hand, grinning hopefully. "Wanna dance?"

It's the love song playlist tonight, and 'I Will Always Love You' fades out as 'When You Say Nothing At All' tinkles through the speakers. She definitely doesn't want to dance.

She darts her eyes nervously over to Kate, who's staring at them with eyes wide and a straw dangling between her slightly parted lips, her empty glass slowly drifting back to the table.

"I don't know..."

"C'mon, don't leave me hanging," he jokes weakly. When she doesn't budge, he sighs and drops his hand but doesn't sit back down; he takes a step closer. "You were my best friend before we started dating," he starts. "You were my best friend while we were dating. I like to think that we're both mature enough to still be friends afterwards. Don't you think?"

She purses her lips to hide her grimace.

"Look, it's just one harmless dance." He spreads his arms out, as if exposing himself to her. Vulnerable, open, honest. "As friends." Right.

_More harm_ful_ than harm_less_, for me at least. Nice to know you're over me already, jerk._

"Friends," she repeats. "Right. Troy- You... You broke up with me. I don't understand..."

"We're both adults, professionals even. I think we can be around each other without making this difficult. We're at Natalie's, and we're friends."

"You're the one who's-" She breaks off with a laugh squeezed between a sigh. "Troy, you're the one who's making this more difficult. We broke up, and I'm trying to keep my distance. _You _are the one who keeps popping up at places in times _you know I'll be at_. When people break up, they _avoid each other_, they try to get over the other person and they don't stay friends."

He sinks down into his seat and exhales tiredly, running his hand through his hair. "I know. I-I know, I just... I miss you. Don't you miss me?" He looks desperately into her eyes, she watches as the blue irises shift slightly and quickly side to side, like he's trying to find something in her eyes.

She lifts her hand to place it on top of his nervous ones, but he's faster and automatically grabs at them while it had been ascending the air between them. "I do," she confesses quietly, relishing in the warmth of his hand. She realises she hadn't been this close to him in weeks; hadn't touched him in a month.

"Then please. Please," he begs, squeezing her hand between both of his. "I just want... One dance. One."

She bites her bottom lip. "Fine," she finally says, somewhat begrudgingly. He doesn't seem to mind her reluctance as he earnestly places a hand on the small of her back and leads her to the small makeshift dance floor in the corner of the pub.

Their hands awkwardly fumble as they try to find the appropriate places to rest. (Where on an ex-boyfriend is she allowed to place her hands? There's no instruction in Dating 101 for this. _Probably because no one in their right mind would accept a dance from an ex._)

A modest smile graces his lips as he shakes his head at their silliness. Equal ground is found with the fifth grade dance position: his hands resting on her hips and her hands on his shoulders, the length of her forearm between them just as the chanting voices fade, "_You say it best when you say nothing at all..._"

The beginnings of another familiar song has Gabriella gripping his shoulders, and her heart lurches up her throat. She drops her gaze to their swaying feet as the lyrics float through one ear, ricochets around her brain. It causes a riot in her tangled head before sucumbing to gravity and falling to pierce through her heart that's still lodged in her oesophagus.

_Of course_ this song would come up. It's not enough that she spent a whole month trying to get over him when he suddenly wants her to dance with him, but a song that basically describes their life croons throughout the whole room that even the smallest cracks are jammed with the melancholy melody and broken words.

She's startled when Troy pulls her closer, her arms folded between them and her forehead against his chin at the same time Carrie Underwood trills '_Remind me, remind me'_.

She chances a glance at him, peeking up at him from below her eyelashes. His eyes are a pale blue, boring into hers mournfully. It's that shade that lets her know he's upset. She wants so badly to stroke his hair and whisper in his ear how much she loves him. She resists the habit. Instead, she slides her arms around the width of his shoulders and tucks her head against his neck. He reacts by pulling her tighter, trapping her hips between his own and his arms, and hiding his face against the top of her head.

She won't cry.

She feels vibrations from his neck and registers that he's humming to the song. She involuntarily shivers and tries to get a hold of herself by pushing her body firmly against the length of his, her arms twining firmer around his neck. He drops his head and sucks in a breath close to her ear before he whispers along, "_That look in your eyes that I miss so much._" Her eyes start to sting around the corners so she shuts them.

She won't cry.

His solid and warm body paired with his deep mumbles trigger her sleep-deprived body into falling slack and she entrusts him to hold her up as she drifts slightly, only parts of his murmurs sinking in.

"_Baby, remind me, remind me ... All those things that you used to do that made me fall in love with you ... You'd wake up in my old t-shirt ... Baby, remind me._"

* * *

"This isn't healthy, you know," she says three days later as she tugs on the sheets to cover her chest, watching as he shifts around the bed and pulls on his boxers before tossing her his t-shirt.

"We've been together for five years and then suddenly stopped seeing each other for a whole month. I think it's completely okay if we slip once or twice." He winks as he crawls back to her at the head of the bed. "Or four times." He sips at her lips and hums.

"I'm being serious, Troy," she frowns, trying to ignore the fluttering in her heart as his hand caresses her cotton covered thigh and his mouth drifts down to her neck.

"Me too. I've missed you, baby."

"This is the last time."

"That's what you said last night. And the night before. And-"

"Well, I mean it this time."

"Okay," he chuckles, kissing her neck.

"We can't tell anyone about this; not even Sharpay." She pushes him back enough so she can see his face. "Promise me."

"She's your best friend. You tell each other everything."

"I know, but... this past month, she's done nothing but help me get over you. She'd kill me if she found out that we're... What _are_ we?"

He maneuvers himself so he's sitting between her thighs over the covers with his legs boxing her in.

"We're not back together." She definitely doesn't want that - especially if he still thinks he can't juggle both her and his career. (Men.) "We're not... friends with benefits." She cringes at the cliche. "Oh god. We're each other's rebounds." She pauses. "Uh, unless you-"

"No. I haven't been with anyone after," he clears his throat. "Only you."

She bites her lip so she doesn't smile. It's not a bad thing to know, but it's not a good thing either. It gives her false hope. She doesn't want that. "I don't feel this is at all healthy."

"So's white chocolate, but you inhale those like you breathe. I'm your white chocolate. Deal with it." He leans forward, nudges her nose with his and then skims his lips against hers.

"Just tell me," he whispers against her mouth, his breath tickling her. Her eyes droop. "If you want to stop, we'll stop. Just say the word."

She pushes against his lips for a proper kiss.

* * *

They don't talk about his job offer (which she thinks he still has yet to accept). It gives her a little hope. Maybe it means that he's changing his mind, and being with her makes him want to stay? She doesn't dare say anything and put it out into the universe, though, because she can't take it back and it will screw her over ten fold if it turns out he hasn't changed anything at all. They don't really talk about anything important. They don't really talk, period.

* * *

Sharpay drags her to the banquet because she has to show her face and make nice with the people who signs their paychecks.

And then she leaves her alone to kiss her attending's ass.

She stares longingly at a couple at the bar who are lost in each other, completely ignorant of the rest of the room. She remembers feeling like that. She remembers-

"Hi."

Closing her eyes, she slowly turns away from the heartrending sight to the heartbreaking vision. Blinking her eyes open, Gabriella paints on a polite closed-lip smile in a greeting. Something flashes in his eyes, and she lets him stare at her as she takes him in. She forgot how _good_ he looks in a tux. His hair is gelled back, his eyes are accentuated by the blue of his tie, and his strong and chiselled build is defined by the tight black blazer.

"You look beautiful."

She ducks her head and swishes the gown lightly, watching the pretty soft blue material flow magically through the air. (She might've chosen this dress specifically because it reminds her of his eyes.) "You too." When she looks up, he's wearing a lopsided grin.

"I haven't seen you all week."

_I've been avoiding you._ "Yeah, well, you know. I've been busy."

"I missed you." He inches closer, and her eyes race around nervously. Where's Sharpay? What if she sees?

_God_, she can smell his cologne. The one that smells like warm vanilla and musty spices. The one he always wears to fancy things like this. The one she gave him for Christmas the first year they met and had made her buy as his Christmas gift every time he ran out. She wonders what he'll do when the bottle he has now becomes empty. She bites her lip and takes a tiny step back.

"Come with me." He holds his hand out to her.

She takes it automatically.

Glancing back, she sees Sharpay narrow her eyes at them from across the room.

* * *

"Hey," she smiles, closing the door to the on-call room. "How are you?"

He shifts on the bed and avoids her eyes. She feels a sense of deja vu. "Gabi," he sighs. "I'm leaving for Haiti earlier than planned."

"Oh." So he had decided. "When?"

"Tonight."

She can't fight against the resentment she's starting to feel towards him. He's leaving her - again. Out of nowhere. She frowns down at the blood stain on his scrubs. She's not going to cry this time. She's too annoyed to cry. _We're mature adults, professionals even._ Sticking out her hand, her gaze levels past his ear. "Good luck, then."

He slowly takes her hand. She gives a firm shake. Before she can pull away, though, he grips her hand and uses that to tug her into his chest as he stands. "I'm sorry." The words tickle her ear and she resists the urge to shudder because the last time he had done that he had been making her feel amazing things.

She absolutely hates that she can't stay mad at him. She hates that all he has to do is touch her for her to melt into him. She hates herself.

"Okay," she intones, because she doesn't know what else to say. She closes her eyes and silently breathes him in one more time; savours the feel of him against her for a little longer before she pushes away. "I have work to do."

She can't help but slam the door on her way out, because this time she's walking out on him. (It's not very effective since he's walking out on her emotionally - _again_, but it's all she has left and she's taking as much as she can.)

* * *

Apparently, Sharpay had confronted Troy and told him that he was a "dick" who's "messing with Gabi's head". She can't be upset with her because she's being a good friend and looking out for her. Sharpay tells her to move on a find someone "not stupid, and uncomplicated."

She's assigned with Dr. Sean Anderson, a surgeon who specialises on lung cancer patients, on one of his patients who has a heart tumour. After she successfully removes the tumour with no permanent damage, she finds herself hanging out with Sean for two and a half weeks outside of work before she realises that he's her rebound.

When he walks her to her apartment, she kisses him and he kisses her back. She doesn't feel anything. When they pull apart, he smiles like he knows what she's thinking. He doesn't suggest going inside with her and she doesn't offer.

She cries herself to sleep for the first time in a long time that night.

Four days later, he knocks on her office door, offers her a cup of coffee and tells her about his day with his attending. They don't talk about that night.

* * *

Sometimes, when she lets herself miss him, she wears his white coat around work all day. She doesn't think anyone notices, but when she catches Taylor's pitying smile, she stops wearing it.

She needs a change, something that would help her take one step closer to moving on. So she cuts her hair.

* * *

"Gabi!" Sharpay says loudly as she runs to catch up to her in the Ortho Ward. "You're in 'The American Journal of Medicine'!"

"Let me see!" Grabbing the magazine, Gabriella squeals excitedly. "This is so great!"

"Congrats, babe!" Sharpay pulls her in for a hug.

"'Rising Surgeon: Gabriella Montez,'" a voice appears over her shoulder. "Wow. Congrats."

Startled, Gabriella simultaneously releases Sharpay and drops the journal article before she spins around to stand face to shoulder with a tall (very tall) and slightly lanky looking doctor. His blonde hair carefully styled and his lips look kiss-swollen even as he smiles warmly at her (she thinks that's its natural look).

He cocks his head to the side before he bends down to retrieve the forgotten magazine and hands it back to her. In the corner of her eye, Sharpay is jerking her head at him and her brows are lifting meaningfully.

She unconsciously takes it as she studies him quietly. She's never seen him before; he must be new here. She'd know if she'd seen his face here because he's handsome in a boyish kind of way. Sharpay's sharp cough snatches her from her thoughts and she jumps slightly when she realises that she's been staring. "Ah, thanks. Who are you?"

"He's my new intern. Leverett, I want those charts done, stat!" Sharpay orders before she promptly spins around and struts down to the Paeds Ward, all the while calling back without another glance in their direction, "Celebratory drinks after work, Gabi!"

"Hi. Peyton Leverett." He holds out his hand and she takes it, shaking it slowly. "The rumour mill here speaks a lot about you and Dr. Bolton."

"Yeah, I, uh... don't pay much attention to the gossip around here."

"Right." He nods once with a serious crease between his eyebrows. "So I hear you're a heart surgeon. I've always been interested in hearts..."


	3. how it could happen

**three: how it could happen**

She's just rounding the side of Peyton's parents' home when she spots a figure across the street leaning against her car. Squinting, she stops in her tracks when he looks up.

Her palms start to sweat when he pushes off and walks towards her.

"Hey."

She swallows. "H-hi." She sounds surprised, but can you blame her? "What... What are you doing here?"

"Sharpay told me about the wedding."

"Oh."

"How was it?"

"Beautiful. Jessica - the bride - she was stunning." She honestly doesn't know what she had seen in that guy. He smoulders a lot. He had smoldered for his _wedding picture_. She's sending good thoughts to Jessica. "Before the wedding, she was so nervous. I had to-"

"You look different," he interrupts.

She swallows again. The lump doesn't go down. "Good different, I hope."

"Of course." He leans forward. He smells like warm vanilla and musty spices. "Your hair's shorter. Still beautiful."

"Thank you." She ducks her head. "You too." It's true: he's more muscular and tanned, his jaw is more defined and his scruff makes him look older than she knows he is. Seems like time has only made him more handsome.

She looks up, and he's smiling.

"I'm- um, seeing someone." _Sort of._ She doesn't know why she had said that, but she's kind of glad because she watches, curiously, as his smile drops.

"Yeah, I heard." He looks down and scuffs his shoe against the concrete of the walkway. _What's Sharpay doing? She was adamant about her staying away from him that night he had left her_ (again).

She crosses her arms when a breeze cuts through the air between them, and her dress ruffles. "He's a good surgeon. Maybe you've heard of him. His name's-"

"Right."

She ignores his audacity and continues on like he didn't just interrupt her, "He's good to me. I'm happy." Now she's just plain lying. _They've had one date - it's still going._

"Do you love him?" He's not looking at her.

She frowns. "Troy, I don't think..."

"You're right; I'm sorry." He shakes his head. "I guess it's just hard seeing you with someone else."

She honestly doesn't know what to say, so she just looks down at her hands and picks at her nail polish.

"I don't know why I came here," he whispers, and she looks back up. "I just... I miss you so much. I can't tell you how many times I picked up my phone, dying to tell the one person I wanted to know first the good news or bad news. But then I remember. We don't talk anymore, we don't see each other anymore. And then I get scared. What if you've changed your number? It's silly, but I felt like that meant you didn't want to talk to me anymore. So I put the phone back down and imagine what it would be like to have you right next to me. Before I chose my head instead of my heart." He takes a step closer and he finally looks at her. "Before I gave up the one real thing I've ever had."

She's trying desperately not to cry. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"I still love you." She hopes she had heard wrong. She seriously hopes that he didn't say exactly what she had heard. But there's no misinterpreting the words. They quiver around the evening air loud and clear.

* * *

She wakes up with her heart pounding in her ears, feeling like she had been falling. She rolls over and tries to wrap her arm around the warm body, but finds the empty cold sheets instead. Frowning, she opens her eyes. She's had a similar dream once, three years ago. But that one time was probably just a fluke.

Sighing, she slowly drags herself out of bed, grabbing her robe along the way to the bathroom.

There's giggling in the kitchen when she comes down the long-winding staircase, her already smiling face breaks out into a beam at the sound.

"Momma!" her two-and-a-half year old reaches her arms up from her place on the chair and clenches her tiny fists, signaling for her to pick her up.

"Hi baby." She places Mia on her hip before giving her a minty kiss on her chubby cheek. "Did you buy new shoes yesterday with Aunt Pay?"

"Pretty! Look!" She kicks her little leg up and there on her foot is a pink and sparkly sneaker.

"Very pretty." Sharpay needs a good talking to about her unwanted influence over her daughter's fashion wardrobe. (The pinks and sparkles are starting to take over her closet.)

She rounds the island counter to the man flipping pancakes. Her little girl giggles behind her hand when she brushes the back of his shoulders and he misses the pancake, the batter falling ungraciously into the pan with a sizzling splat.

"'Morning." She smiles as he tickles the mocha-eyed girl's belly before pecking her lips lightly, his forehead resting against hers.

"'Morning, Mrs. Bolton."

"G'mo'nin', momma," Mia declares loudly.

He mimics her teasingly, and evokes loud giggles when he blows a raspberry on her cheek. "Why don't you play, baby girl?"

"Okay." She squirms in her arms to be put down before skipping off to her bear on her booster seat.

"Breakfast's just about done," he explains, turning the stove off and presenting her the plate of pancakes with a flourish. "Here. I'll get the juice."

The dining table is already set up with two plates of fruit on each end, and she steals a slice of mango as she places the pancakes in the middle and takes a seat. "So pancakes for breakfast again." She fills Mia's plate with a variation of fruit and cuts up her pancakes into pieces.

He laughs, and she watches him pour orange juice into each of their glass before he disappears to put the carton back into the fridge. "I'm hoping this is the last time she wants it. It's been four days straight and I'm worried I'll never want pancakes for the rest of my life."

"Daddy! It's you!" They both turn to see Mia toddling in with Eugene (named after her first Disney crush; Eugene Fitzherbert) in one hand and an upside down 'The Lancet' in the other.

"C'mere you little bug." He scoops her up and nudges his nose with hers, placing her in her seat at the head of the table. Mia hands her the journal before seating her bear next to her so she can dig eagerly into her meal.

"'The Brilliance of Bolton's Craniotomy Technique,'" she reads proudly, staring at the picture of his smiling face gazing back at her. He braces a hand against the table so he can lean down and read over her shoulder, and she tilts her head up to grin at him. "Congrats, hon."

He beams back and accepts the kiss to his cheek before he rounds to the seat opposite her.

Breakfast is filled with conversation on how Mia had spent her day with her Aunt Sharpay. When they're finished, she takes her turn clearing the table while Troy flicks through the journal and Mia holds tightly onto her bear as he rides her tonka truck across the kitchen floor.

As soon as the dishes are stacked into the dishwasher, her arms slither around his neck from behind and she rests her cheek against his. "Are you going into work today?"

"Nope. My intern's a real-" he glances at Mia, who's tending to the fallen Eugene. "Dummy. But I want to spend the day with my favourite girls."

She laughs slightly. "That means we're going to the park!" They had decided long ago that whenever both aren't working, they'd take a stroll through the park for some alone time together. After Mia was born, the tradition had became more frequent and crucial - not only because of the little girl's love for the ducks and swings, but their commitment to become the parents who aren't so caught up in their work they don't have enough time to watch their children grow.

Mia gasps and jumps to her feet, her bear tightly clutched in her chubby arms as the truck is kicked away with her sudden motion. "Park!" Her little legs dash as fast as they can out of the kitchen. "Momma, c'mon!"

"Go," he chuckles. "I'll finish cleaning the table."

Shaking her head softly, she steps away, but before she's too far, he's tugging her into his lap.

"Hold on. I need a proper morning kiss," he murmurs playfully and cranes his neck to push his lips against hers.

Their mouths move flawlessly like a well-practiced dance, and his hand dives into her curls for a deeper kiss when an echo of, "Hel-_lo_!" sounds throughout the house.

She wrenches her mouth away to gasp, scandalous. "That Sharpay. I swear to god."

He pulls her down for a quick peck, and before their daughter can cry out impatiently again, she twirls away to help her get ready.

* * *

"Don't go too far!" she calls out. When Mia turns around and gives them a cheeky thumbs up, her dark brown curls, highlighted by her natural dirty blonde streaks, whip around her face as the wind swirls around, and she scrunches her face up as she giggles. Gabriella watches her carefully as she runs up to the playground, straight for the swing set.

"She said the cutest thing this morning." He drops his arm from around her shoulders to hold her hand.

"Oh yeah?" She intertwines their fingers before slipping them into his coat pocket.

"She told me that she hopes Sharpay marries her new friend because she wants to be the flower girl." He turns his head and smiles at her. "How long have they been dating?"

"About three months." She shrugs. "Whatever will be, I guess."

The hand that's holding hers stops her short when he abruptly halts. She twists her head around to see what's up, but only finds him smiling back at her.

"What?" She swipes her face in case there are crumbs from the white chocolate bar he had bought for her on their way here.

"I was just reminded of that rough patch we went through during our residential years."

"Rough patch," she laughs incredulously. "That's what you're going with?"

"Well, yeah."

"You and I remember things differently, buddy."

"Okay, fine. I was stupid because I thought I couldn't juggle both a career and a relationship." He pouts. "Are you happy?"

She tries to contain her smile by pulling the bottom lip between her teeth as she tugs their joined hands out of the pocket. "The happiest." Clasping his hand in both of hers, she tows him along to the bench with a clear view of the playground.

A sloppy grin latches on to his face as he takes a seat, and she nestles against him under his arm. "I am too, you know," he utters. When she peeks up from her perch on his shoulder, sincerity flitters his features and infects her heart, the thumping in her chest forces her to take larger gulps of air. "I love you, I love our beautiful daughter and I love the wonderful life we have."

She bites her lip and her eyes drift toward their daughter, who's watching in amazement at an older boy swinging dangerously high.

They have grown up so much, and their relationship has become more stable over all these years. Her life had changed so many times since meeting one very volatile Troy Bolton. She remembers all too well the night of Peyton Leverett's first wedding, when he confessed his love for her never wavered during their time apart. Of course, she didn't taken him back straight away - not to mention easily (despite her mutual feelings). Trust doesn't come easily to Gabriella, whose life growing up wasn't sheltered from the harsh realities of the world. She had been wary of Troy's profession, despite her pounding heart nudging her to just take him back.

She'd stammered that she had to think about it and left him standing on the dimly lit porch. He understood and gave her time to process everything, but that didn't mean he gave up. He relentlessly pursued her at her house, during work (he spoke to the Chief of Surgery, an old friend of his, for his job back), and at Natalie's after work. Sharpay had joked about him stalking her, but she oddly found it endearing, and every time they crossed paths he would tell her one reason why he loves her. When she was ready, they had a talk and worked through their issues. She asked questions and he answered them, she narrated how she felt and what she did both times he left, and he apologised, describing his similar experiences.

Eventually, she trusted him enough to start things up again and explained to him that she was willing to start over and take things slowly. After Sharpay found out, word spread like wildfire across the hospital, and they were pleasantly surprised when the next day, staff had reacted with nothing but unrelenting joy and enthusiastic congratulations (considering they were neither within their close group of friends or in the relationship themselves).

"Hey," he says, squeezing her shoulder. "What'cha thinkin' about?"

She smiles softly. "Everything."

"Daddy!"

Their heads whip around to see Mia beckoning her father over for her turn on the swing. "C'mon." He reaches his hand out for her as he stretches off the bench.

She shakes her head and urges him ahead. "You go. I'll catch up."

He looks back at her as he nears the playground and winks before helping Mia settle on the swing.

They have a much healthier relationship now. She believes they are completely comfortable in communicating and handling any disputes or arguments. (Whenever one was upset with the other, they would name one thing that they love about the other before calmly discuss the issue.) It's been years since that one spring night. She loves her little family and how her life has turned out. An adoring husband, a fantastic job, an even better best friend, and a beautiful and enchanting baby daughter who looks just like her. Gabriella looks down as her thumb plays with her wedding band while the other hand slowly rubs her flat stomach, and a grin automatically dances across her face. She can only think of one thing to make her life brighter.

A little boy who looks just like Troy.

"Momma!" Mia cries impatiently.

Gabriella giggles lightly. "I'm coming."

She carefully crosses the obstacles that separate her from her two favourite people in the world as she ponders a nice way to surprise them with the news. Her smile broadens when Mia's laugh booms out of her tiny mouth and scatters into the sky as she tilts her head back. Maybe tonight, they can go out to eat and she can tell them there. Troy's arm wraps protectively across her shoulders and she instinctively slides her own across his waist as he presses a kiss against her temple. Her dream this morning was right. She's pregnant, and there's a fifty percent chance it'll be a boy this time.

But hey.

Whatever will be, right?

* * *

AND THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER.

Sigh. So there it is. I'm so sad it's over but I can't wait to see when/how/where Z&V get back together (because you _know_ they will).


End file.
